


The Shepherd - ON HIATUS FOR THE TIME BEING SORRY

by gracediamondsfear



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha Male, Byronic Hero, Childhood Friends, F/M, Family Secrets, More tags as events warrant, Oral Sex, Orphan Rey, Shepherd Ben, Smoking, Star Wars AU, Vaginal Sex, early 20th century, mysterious loner, secret guardian, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:14:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24120412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracediamondsfear/pseuds/gracediamondsfear
Summary: Quiet, Solitary, Mysterious Ben the shepherd works in the pastures and lives in the village of Exegol. He’s known Lady Rey her whole life, has watched her grow up from afar and he even knows the secret of why she feels so out of place living in the Palpatine Estate.When sheltered, naive Rey grows up and begins seeking Ben out, curious about life in the village and anxious to find a way to escape life with the Palpatines, his silent guardianship quickly turns into something more.Early 20th Century Reylo AU
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 21
Kudos: 105





	1. Fourteen

**THE SHEPHERD**

The lamb had fallen into an old rabbit hole and had it not been bleating so pitifully Rey never would have seen it all covered in mud and curled in on itself. Normally, she prided herself on her keen skills of observation, but the the sky had been so blue that afternoon that she’d been looking up at the budding branches rather than down at her feet. When the weather was nice she often wandered the pastures or the bustling village streets looking for interesting flowers or uniquely shaped rocks or bits of glass for her collections. Even as a child she’d had a keen eye for finding treasures in the dirt, picking sea glass from a pile of grey stones. But her parents didn’t understand her love of these strange yet common things; scavenging through piles of rubbish for a twisted, rusty nail pried from an old fence or a bit of brightly painted pottery chipped from a dish. They were often dirty; sharp and dangerous. Still, she cherished them for their uniqueness, cleaned them up and put them in a place of honor in a beautiful treasure chest. The box was her prized possession that she’d found sitting in the gardens one day, right in the center of the stone path; the hinged lid intricately carved with a handle of white, polished bone. It had been her birthday when she found it but neither of her parents admitted to placing it in the herb garden. Of course they’d been smiling when they said it, and Rey played along.

“Oh, poor little thing…” 

Now she reached into the root tangled hole and pulled the lamb free. It carried on crying in her arms with its little pink tongue and wide bright eyes, doing its best to burrow into the warmth of her jumper. Rey giggled at its bedraggled condition and gave it a scratch behind the ears while it squirmed and stretched, trying to get free. It couldn’t be more than a couple of days old, still gangly and thin. A breeze kicked up from the lake it the late afternoon sun and she knew the baby wouldn’t last in the cold on its own.

“Where’s your mama little one?”

She looked up and across the pasture trying to find the rest of the flock. Her gaze followed the new spring grass rippling like waves over the gently sloping hills, rolling south, down from the estate. Holding a hand to her eyes to block the glare of the sun she finally found the little dots of white gathered by the creek near a little circle of willow trees. It was only a few minutes walk so she tucked the lamb under her arm and started down the hill. 

The grove was Ben’s favorite place to take the small flock of Ryelands, letting them graze and drink while he sat beneath the willows in the shade with his notebook or a thick piece of wood to whittle, watching the clouds moving over the lake. He found the view peaceful, sometimes even dozing for an hour or two happy to just let the world turn without him. Spending the day in the pasture with his flock and his pup was far better than dealing with the questions and comments and 'well wishes' of the town. It was later in the day though, time to start pulling the sheep together and head back toward the house. While standing up to stretch his back, he whistled twice to his dog Harold and the black and white collie began his job, trotting around the outside, pulling the obstinate rams in from the edges and gathering up the smaller sheep that liked to wander.

Turning to look back toward the Palpatine Estate, he saw her coming before she caught his eye. She was wearing a pristine white dress with yellow trim and it nearly glowed in the sunlight, the shadowy outlines of her legs visible through the skirt. Even from his place a hundred yards away he knew it was Rey, the only girl who wore her hair down, the sides pulled back and fastened with clips, falling in perfect little S shaped waves, something most villagers didn’t have time or use for. But there was also something about her gait, the way she held her head so high, how she swung her arms and took long, confident strides…he’d recognize it from a mile away.

“Hello,” she said, sauntering up with the crying lamb. Her smile was wide and confident, as if she were presenting him with a trophy.

“Better put her down,” he said. “Mama’s not going to be too happy with you holding her hungry baby.”

“Oh,” Rey said, letting the little bundle squirm out of her arms. “I’m…I’m sorry. I found her up at the top of the hill. I was just out walking…I didn’t know if you knew she was lost.”

He said nothing and she just stared at him, waiting, but for what she wasn’t sure. This wasn’t the usual reaction people had to seeing her out and about. She was part of the Palpatine family after all and she'd heard how people felt about him, the power he had. With a snap of her fingers Ben could be fired. Another snap and he’d be in jail, if that’s what Lord Palpatine decided. She was part of the most richest family in the county and yet he didn’t smile or thank her or compliment her dress, only stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. He just…stared back at her, his head tipped a bit to the side, eyes searching her features. For some reason she felt her cheeks flush with heat and was grateful to see the mother sheep walk over to nurse her lamb, breaking the connection between them. The breeze was getting colder and she pulled her hands into the sleeves of her grey cardigan, wrapping it tighter around her waist. Suddenly a knee length dress seemed silly. The whole thing seemed silly.

There weren’t _that_ many people in their town and so Rey had heard things about Ben the Shepherd from ladies that came to tea around the estate, shop owners in the village, maids in the kitchens. She’d even seen him herself on her walks through town, but never really had reason to speak to him. He was just a shepherd and didn’t have much to offer her. 

Behind his back they all called him Ben Solo because he had no one, no family, no wife. His father had been the village shepherd before him but then Ben had lost both of his parents in the sickness that swept through the valley when Rey was just a toddler. People spoke of that year as if it were a Biblical event, measuring time before and after its wave through the country. It had killed nearly half the population, old and young, leaving the land scattered with orphans. He’d taken over the flock when he was only fifteen, fending for himself, living alone, refusing any help or charity, even when it came to shearing time. It was almost as if he preferred to be alone.

And it made him quite mysterious. 

Now he was standing right in front of her and she watched, fascinated, as he pulled a little pouch from his leather satchel and set about rolling a cigarette, lighting a match off of a rock on the bank of the creek. He wore dark braces over his forest green jumper and she could smell the wool and the leather when the breeze kicked up.

“Does Palpatine know you’re out here walking the pastures?” He finally asked, looking over her shoulder towards the house, blowing smoke out in a stream over her head.

Rey shrugged, bending down to pick a stray violet from among the dense grasses, anything to stop staring at his eyes.

“I’m allowed to leave the house,” she said with a hint of exasperation. “I doubt they even notice I’m gone, not with little lady Kaydel around.”

Lady Palpatine had given birth to a baby girl a few years ago and Rey had never seen such a celebration in the village…flowers and parades and gifts sent to the house in droves. One of the pub owners even wrote a song for _Wee Kaydie_. Try as she might, Rey could never remember such celebration in her honor…ever, not even when she turned twelve and was officially presented as a Palpatine Lady in town; a title that people had already given Kaydel and she was only three. In fact, ever since the baby came it was as if Rey didn’t even exist.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Ben said, stepping past her to disentangle a couple of sheep from a thicket near the water’s edge. He held the cigarette deftly between his lips while he spoke from the corner of his mouth. “Trust me, if you didn’t make it home tonight there would be quite an uproar.”

His voice was low and rumbling, like distant thunder and she could feel every word in her belly for some reason as she stood there fiddling with the petals of the violet, nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot. Perhaps it was because what the ladies had failed to mention in their stories and what she may have forgotten since the last time she saw Ben the shepherd was how…very…big he was. Even in his flat Wellington boots he towered over her, his arms looking thicker when he stopped to cross them over his chest, his stance strong and wide. She’d heard them talk about his beautiful inky hair, wavy and tousled, tucked behind his ears. She’d heard them talk about his full, pouting lips, and whiskey colored eyes that looked almost like gold in the sunlight. They’d just never mentioned how…imposing…he was.

“I take walks every day by myself,” she said, following him as he whistled to his dog and waved his arms to pull his the little flock together. “I have my lessons in the morning, I have lunch in the kitchens with cook and Rosie and then I’m free to do what I like until supper. I’m independent.” She stood there feeling like a simpleton with her hands folded behind her back, forcing her chin high in the air, looking at him like she deserved some sort of award. Her tongue was tangled and words weren’t coming to mind as easily as usual.

“I’m sure you are,” he said, finally smiling, just a bit, like a peek at the sun on an overcast day. “But I doubt very much that they’d want you out here near the water, this far from home, especially with the sun going down.” He was standing right behind her. She could smell the cold sweat on his skin from a day’s work. “It’s not safe for little girls to be out wandering.” For a moment she felt his warm breath on her neck but then he cleared his throat and stepped away. “You should head on home.”

“I’m not a little girl,” she snapped, running to catch up with his long strides as he headed back towards his farm. “I’m fourteen.”

Ben snorted and turned back to the sheep, shaking his head.

“All the more reason you should run along home,” he said, but she wasn’t quite sure what he meant.

What she was sure of was that she was hurt and embarrassed but refused to let him see it, so Rey turned to start back up towards home. Already the valets were out lighting the lamps at the front gate as the sky turned a deep purple. Before she was too far up the hill she turned and looked over her shoulder at the rude shepherd, suddenly not at all surprised that he was alone. 

“I’m Rey,” she said defiantly, as if it would make some sort of difference.

“I know,” he said, but he was already walking away from her.

  
She showed no surprise at his declaration, really had no response at all, but why should she? Rey lived with Lord Palpatine, the richest man in the county (and if you didn’t know that he’d remind you whenever he had a free second). She had been their ward ever since she was a toddler. Everyone in town knew Rey. But she didn’t remember him.   
  
Of course he hadn’t really spoken to her since she was a child of six or so, out with Lord and Lady Palpatine as they made their routine “friendly visits” to the merchants and laborers around town, keeping his nose deep in everyone’s business. She’d been a bit shy back then, hiding behind Lady Palpatine’s skirts until Ben had asked her if she’d like to pet one of the new lambs.

_“It’s just a baby,” he’d said, holding it in his lap and letting her touch the cloud soft curls of wool on the new lamb. "So you have to be very gentle with him."  
_

_“What’s his name?” She asked, sitting down beside him._

_“Oh, I don’t name them really…there’s so many. Do you want to give him a name?”_

_“Hmmm…how about…Alan?”_

_He’d laughed out loud at that, expecting her to pick a name like Fluffy or Baby._

_“Sure…Alan is good.”_

After pulling off his muddy boots he sat down next to his fireplace with a bottle of whiskey and thought back to that day, the way she cuddled up next to him so easily, how she’d been so comfortable in the pasture, picking wildflowers, throwing rocks into the creek. 

She’d looked so happy that day…so peaceful. It had lifted a weight from his shoulders to see her that way, but only for a while. He’d never lose the weight he carried completely; not until she knew. 


	2. Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to do my DAMNDEST to keep a regular update schedule for this but I do have several WIPs (because I'm an idiot) and sometimes my writing muse takes an extended comalike vacation. Thank you so much for the amazing comments on chapter 1. I wasn't sure how a concept like this would be received, but I'm excited to share it now. 
> 
> For those wondering this is something of a "timeless" fic. Not quite fairytale AU, but sort of an amorphous early 20th century somewhere. :) 
> 
> Thanks for following!

His dreams were always vivid - colorful and loud, filled with detail that he could recall for hours after waking, feelings and images following him through the day. On the worst nights he would be brought back to the smells, the acrid smoke of burning houses nailed shut with bodies inside in an attempt to eradicate the plague, or the sweet, yeasty smell of the sickness. To hide it his mother would wear a cloying, rose scented perfume. And in her last days he couldn’t even go near her to say goodbye for fear he'd catch the illness himself. In his nightmares he could see his father laying dead in the pasture, surrounded by his flock, his lips dark and purple, eyes open, staring into the sun. It had been beautiful and sunny on the day he died, something he would never forgive the universe for.

On some nights he dreamt of Rey, tiny Rey in her sky blue dress, her hair pulled into pigtails braided down her back. He dreamt of her crying, holding her arms out and begging for her parents, her family, begging for someone to save her from the strangers that held her. His mind turned against him and showed how he did nothing but watch helplessly as she was taken away, her face red from crying…snatched from the only place she ever knew. He’d been fifteen years old and he’d seen it all as he guided the flock out to graze.

And he’d done nothing.

So when he knew the nights would be hard he went out to the village, hoping to drink the dreams away.

“I think you’ve had enough. Time to head home love,” Maz said, wiping down the bar. 

He’d been sitting there for three hours and she’d refilled his pint glass more times than he could count. Maz was the closest thing he had to…anything…to anyone that meant something so while he was loathe to admit it, he nodded and threw a few coins in her direction.

“Is Lizzie here?” He asked, looking around at the dwindling crowd as he drained the last of his beer.

On the nights he went out looking to forget he always waited until the moment before he walked out to find someone to distract him for the night. They knew he wasn’t looking for true love, some soulmate to share his miserable, empty life. But a good shag would help to pass the night without the memories.

“She’s got herself a boy now, Ben,” Maz said, keeping her voice low and even. She knew better than to get the shepherd’s hackles up, particularly after he’d been drinking.

“What about Bazie?” He asked, barely missing a beat.

His eyes were glassy, darting around the room, cheeks flushed from drink. Maz put her rag aside and stepped out from behind the bar to sit on the stool beside him, covering his huge hand with her tiny, wrinkled one. After running a bar for nearly fifty years she knew a broken, lonely man when she saw one. She knew pain when she saw it, but she rarely saw it ravaging a man not even thirty years old. 

“Why don’t you go home and get some sleep, boy. You have to be up early don’t you? And the radio said there’s going to be a frost tonight. I hate to think of you walking home in the cold. Go home and sit by the fire.”

He stared down at her tiny face, her silver hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. For a moment he wondered what his mother would have looked like had she lived to be Maz’s age, were she given the chance to grow old. He wondered how her eyes would have crinkled at the corners, whether her coffee dark hair would have been streaked with grey. His throat tightened at the thought, eyes stinging with tears he blinked away. Maz was right; he pushed his empty pint away.

“I just…” he said, shaking his head, running his finger through the ring of condensation on the bar, “I’m so tired of being…”

“Hey it's the little shepherd boy!” Someone called from the front of the tavern. “Baaaa! Hey BaaaabbaaabaaBEN!”

“Ignore them,” Maz implored, squeezing his hand. Then over her shoulder she called out, “Fuck off home Poe Dameron, you’ve had enough.”

“I just got here!” Poe said laughing, standing up from his seat. “C'mon, we’re just having a little fun with our boy here, right Ben?”

Ben finally turned around to look, clenching his fists at his sides as he felt his heartbeat pulsing at the hinge of his jaw. Poe was holding court at a wide round table by the fire surrounded by a group of friends, including two young women huddled together chatting in the corner. And of course one of them was Rey Palpatine. Rey and her best friend Rosie Tico, out with a group of boys far too old for them, boys with a reputation for taking advantage of women at any age. When he thought about it she shouldn’t have been out at the pub at all, having just turned sixteen. She may have felt grown up but she was still just a girl; a girl who didn't know how…mature…she looked in the dark blue dress she wore, with a simple gold chain around her neck that glinted in the low light. He didn’t like seeing her with the likes of Poe and Finn, a couple of rich boys who got whatever they wanted and got away with worse, but of course no one was going to tell Lord Palpatine’s daughter where she could and couldn’t go.

Ben swallowed and stood to leave before anything else got out of hand. 

“See you later Maz,” he said, giving her a nod. 

Before he could make it out the door, Poe jumped to stand in front of him, now with Finn helping to block the path, the two of them grinning ear to ear.

“I said _Hey_ , Ben,” Poe said.

“Hey,” Ben returned, his eyes briefly flicking over to where Rey sat frowning, watching as it all went to shit. “Now can you move? I’m trying to leave.”

“Go on and sit down, Poe,” Maz called from the bar. 

“Going home for a little…romantic night with Wooly Wendy?” Finn asked.

The two men nearly fell to the ground laughing at their own terribly original jokes and Ben rolled his neck, breathing deep and staring out into the empty street as he counted to ten. He should have stayed home. This was why it was better that he stay at home. Always. It wasn’t because he couldn’t handle assholes running their mouth, idiots flinging stupid insults, but because someone always ended up getting hurt. It was easier just to stay away, and he was sure the villagers preferred it that way too.

“Only because your mother was too tired, Dameron,” Ben said, looking him right in the eye and cracking his knuckles with his thumb, nearly begging one of them to take a swing. 

Somewhere in the room someone barked out laugh and quickly stifled it and Ben saw Poe's face go red with rage.

“Take it back, shepherd.”

“How could I, mate, when I’ve already given it to her?” He prodded, forcing a smile, but Dameron was already charging for him. There was no going back.

“You mother fuck-“

“You said it, not me, friend…”

_“Just leave him alone!”_

They all turned to see Rey standing on the bench in the corner, exasperated and scowling, arms crossed over her chest. Ben glanced in her direction, but instead of thanking her he felt bile rising in his throat, his chest tightening as his lip curled into a snarl. He wasn’t fooled by her heroism, not for a second. She wasn’t defending him; she didn’t care. She was pitying him, upset that he was ruining her night. He didn’t need her riding in to save him.

In the end he wasn’t quite sure who swung first, but after crashing his fist in to Dameron’s jaw, Ben felt the ringing heavy thud of a punch to his eye, his vision going red and blurry in an instant, his temple immediately throbbing in pain. After that it felt good to start punching. The civility he desperately clung to fell away like shedding a skin and he emptied out everything he’d buried through his fists; like opening the steam valve on an engine. He was blinded with pain and rage, swinging and kicking, growling at whatever was in front of him until finally he was pulled away. 

When it was all over Finn was helping a bruised and bloodied Poe off the floor and into a chair, the girls were sitting, aghast, in the corner, and Charles was pulling Ben away, holding his arms behind his back. 

“Maz told you to go home, son. Get out of here before it gets worse for you,” he said, pushing Ben towards the door.

Charles Bacha was an old friend of Ben’s parents, tall and broad shouldered with a kind face and the strength of three men. He’d married Maz when Ben was a child and the party at the tavern had been one of his happiest, earliest memories; Ben’s father playing a fiddle in front of the fire and Charles lifting him onto his shoulder as everyone danced in a circle, laughing and singing along. Now he just looked down at Ben’s bloodied face and cracked knuckles and shook his head.

“You can’t keep doing this boy,” he said. “Something’s got to change.”

“Leggo of me,” Ben said, wrenching his arm free, wavering on his feet from the combination of drunkenness and pain. “Just…leave me alone. I’ve…I can take care of myself.”

Charles stood back, holding his hands up. In the corner Poe spat invective in Ben’s direction but he barely heard it, looking instead at Rey who was standing against the brick wall with Rosie’s arms around her, her eyes wide with shock. 

“Happy Birthday, princess,” Ben slurred, before stumbling out the door.

The night was clear and cold and the shock of a fresh breeze sobered him up a bit as he walked down the main street towards his farm. But he wasn’t alone for long.

“Ben!” She called, running to catch up. “Are you alright?”

Rey trotted up beside him, exhaling little white clouds as she caught her breath. She’d started wearing her hair up in the past few weeks, pulled back into a twist that curved around the nape of her neck. Tonight she had a comb stuck in it, dotted with pearls and rhinestones. 

“I’m fine. Run on back and check on your boyfriend little girl,” he said, wiping at the blood he could taste on his lip. 

“Boyfriend?” She said, scrunching her nose in disgust. “Neither of them are…look, it just…it looks bad. I…here,” she held out a clean rag tied around some ice. “Maz said this will help.”

Ben sighed and took the bundle, his fingers brushing over hers as he pulled it from her hand. It felt good to see concern on her face, a furrowed brow, chewing on her bottom lip. It almost seemed like she cared.

“Why don’t you just ignore him?” She finally asked, sounding more annoyed than sympathetic. “He’s only doing it to…I mean…he was just trying to impress me.”

He stopped walking then; stopped and looked down at her shivering in her fashionable black coat, nipped in at the waist, her hands jammed deep in the pockets. She was wearing lipstick: dark,shiny and wine colored. The wind kicked up and a few strands of her hair whipped free, sticking to her mouth. He was struck by how much older she looked than even a week ago.

“Did it work?” He asked, holding the ice to his temple. 

“I…I don’t…” she was flustered, her cheeks flushed from what he assumed was the cold. 

When she didn’t answer he turned away from her, handing her back the ice, the rag now stained pink with blood. 

“Take this back to Maz, I don’t want to be accused of stealing a bar rag.”

“Ben, just…please make sure you clean that. It looks so painful.”

“Does your…do they know you’re out here drinking with two well known wankers?”

She smiled then, eyes glittering with mischief as she dragged her toe through the gravel.

“Whatever do you mean? I’m at home asleep in my bed,” she said, laughing; but Ben didn’t join in.

“Be careful little one. You should go home before things get out of hand.”

“I just came out here to make sure you’re not hurt. I’m not one of your flock, Ben. You can’t just send me home.”

“No I can’t,” he said, walking away. “But I know a wolf when I see one. Have a good night miss Rey.”

He left her standing in the middle of the street, his head still ringing with pain long after he walked away.


	3. Splinters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate your patience with the updates to this story. I was very excited to get started on it and get it out in the world, but as of late the quarantine is sort of getting to my energy and creativity and its getting difficult to find the right words, so there may be a bit between chapters, but I promise I will not abandon you :)

She stood alone for a while, watching him disappear into the night where the streetlamps stopped guiding his way. Ahead of her was the quiet darkness and behind she could hear the music and laughter of the pub, the fight already forgotten, Rey’s absence barely noticed. It was a feeling she’d grown used to. 

She had woken up with a smile on her face, giddy with excitement at what the day might bring. Would there be a new dress waiting? A pair of opal earrings like she’d hinted at the week before? Perhaps there would be a surprise party waiting at the base of the staircase…a group of happy well wishers cheering her name, assuring her that she belonged, a Palpatine through and through. It had been years since they celebrated her birthday at the house, years since they celebrated Rey. And it wasn’t every day that a girl turned sixteen.

But there had been nothing. 

No, not nothing. After eating her breakfast in silence, waiting for either of her parents to say something, anything to mark the occasion, she’d stormed away from the table, seething with anger, leaving to walk the grounds. The cool, late Autumn air had helped to calm her - the sky painfully blue and painted with steely clouds, and when she looked down towards the creek she could see the flock scattered over the hillside, their coats thick and warm. As she made her way around the grounds she’d found another gift in the cutting garden, just like she did every year. This time it was a beautifully carved bird that fit in the palm of her hand, round and smooth, polished to a shine with an ornate R etched into the bottom.

She brought it inside to show her tutor, Mistress Amilyn, placing it on the teacher’s desk while she was still reading.

“Thank you Miss Amy,” Rey said, “it’s beautiful.”

The woman closed her book and put away her glasses before looking closer at the delicately carved figurine. 

“Oh Miss Rey, this is fantastic, but I'm afraid I didn’t give it to you,” she said, handing it back. “Another one of your mystery gifts I suppose, from the garden fairies? My birthday surprise was actually going to be a day off from Latin recitation.”

“Oh! I...” Rey turned the polished wood over in her hands. Already she was familiar with the feel of the curved wings, the perfect smooth surface of the bead like eye. She liked the weight of it in her palm. “Well thank you for that Miss Amy.”

“I’m sure it was Lady Palpatine’s doing. You know she likes little surprises.”

Amilyn stood from her desk and Rey was once again in awe of the young woman’s simple grace and elegance. Even in a plain black dress, her golden hair curled into a chin length bob...she looked almost royal in her careful posture and easy smiles. Rey felt clumsy and young beside her, like a newborn calf, under developed, unsure. Watching the woman cross the room, Rey made a note to stand up straighter, to throw her shoulders back and hold her head high like she had something to be proud of.

“Thank you Miss Amy...I’ll ask."

Again her parents had sworn it wasn’t them, exchanging nervous, telling glances as they did so, but who else would it be? No one else knew about her collection of wooden treasures. Rosie didn’t have the money to buy or the skill to make such a thing, the boys down at the pub wouldn’t think of such a delicate, beautiful gesture and besides, they hadn’t known it was her birthday until Rosie had made the phone call to invite them into town.

"What's that?" Kaydel asked, bounding into the room.

“It’s my birthday,” Rey told her, letting the tiny girl hold the figurine, smiling as she pretended to make it fly through the study. 

“It is? Oh my gosh! Is there going to be cake?”

“I’m not sure,” Rey said, returning the five year old’s infectious smile. 

Kay was just a child, filled with curiosity and innocence. She’d never shown her big sister anything but unconditional love and in realizing it, Rey was overcome with guilt at having harbored bitter jealousy at a baby for so long. Jealousy at the little moments of affection that their mother showed her, they way she was comforted when she was frightened by lightining. She was jealous of the spacious playhouse that was put up in the flower gardens even though Rey was already fifteen when it was built and much too old to partake in such things. In fact there were dozens of things that she’d never realized she’d been deprived of until she saw Kaydel enjoying them. But that wasn’t her sister’s fault.

After playing with the bird for a moment she handed it back and climbed into Rey’s lap, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Do you remember for my birthday we had a cake? With caramel and cream? And then we went for a carriage ride all through the village like I was a princess. Remember?”

“I do,” Rey said, hugging the girl close. “What a beautiful day that was. And you were a princess! Such a big girl turning five in your brand new yellow dress!” 

“Happy Birthday Rey!” Kaydel said, finally wriggling free, headed off for new adventures.

There hadn’t been a cake.

“Rey? Hey, Rey come on inside, it’s freezing out here.” 

Rosie came up behind her and put an arm around her shoulders, turning her back towards the pub but she quickly shrugged it off, wiping away her waxy lipstick on the back of her hand and retying the belt of her coat. It wasn’t even eleven o’clock but she was suddenly very tired. 

“I’m…I should go home,” she said, trying to see if Ben was still visible in the distance even though the road to her house was in the opposite direction. “I’m not really in the mood anymore…”

“Oh c’mon! We just got here! Finn just ordered drinks for the whole room to smooth things over after the….thing…” she said, waving her hand in the general direction of the fight. "Besides, it's late and dark and you shouldn't be walking alone..."

“You go back. Go back and be with Finn,” Rey said, forcing a smile. “Thank you so much for coming out with me but I just…its late and I think I should go home.”

  
It was nearly midnight by the time she got to the house, trudging, exhausted, up the walk to the front door. Rey had never been given a “curfew” per se, but she was sure that if they knew she’d been out, there would be hell to pay. So even though her feet were freezing and the stones were wet, she took off her shoes on the front steps and entered the house in sock feet, padding through the front foyer to the staircase.

“Where have you been, girl?” Lord Palpatine snarled in the darkness. 

She could only see the shadowy outline of his long dark robe standing at the top of the stairs. Her heart pounded against her chest and she fought the urge to run. To run or worse, fall to her knees and beg forgiveness. But it was time now, time for her to stand up for herself. Perhaps this was the birthday gift she could give herself. She wasn’t a child anymore.

“I was out with friends, celebrating my birthday,” she said, walking up the first few stairs, holding her chin high. “Since no one did anything for me here…”

“No one did anything for you?” He bellowed, charging down to meet her, his watery blue eyes burning with anger. “What about this house that you live in? What about the dress you’re wearing, the food you eat? How dare you say that no one does anything for you...you selfish little…scavenger.”

Rey flinched away from him as if he’d slapped her. He’d called her names before in anger: when she misbehaved as a child, when she spoke out of turn, when she dared to take a moment's attention away from Kaydel. They’d both called her a brat, a lazy do-nothing, a cry baby, but never…a scavenger. As if she’d come in from the streets, a rat from the sewers squeezing in beneath the front door? Of course she knew she was adopted, she looked nothing like Lord and Lady Palpatine. But that was a decision they had made. They had _chosen_ her. She didn’t ask for them to take her in, and they’d never thrown her status back in her face like he did at that moment. Tears stung her eyes but she blinked them back. Crying was never tolerated.

“I will always…always be grateful for everything you’ve given me,” she said, speaking to him as if approaching a wild animal, her voice calm and even. “I just…I want to celebrate. I wanted to have a party with my friends and be happy, just for one night…I just turned sixteen and I…”

“Yes,” he hissed, unmoved by her explanation. “Sixteen. And perhaps time to learn a lesson about being a responsible adult.”

  
His dog Huck had met him at the door when Ben finally stumbled home from the pub, whining and pawing at his legs as if he knew his master was suffering. Rey was right, he needed to clean the cut near his eye and the split in his bottom lip, but before he could follow her advice he fell into bed, aching and drunk, passing out until the sun came up. When he woke his sheets were stained with dots of blood and his eye was swollen shut, the skin shining purple and tender to the touch. An apt punishment for his behavior the night before.

“Why don't you fetch me a doctor you worthless mutt,” he muttered to the dog, who just continued with his nap in front of the fireplace, his nose tucked firmly beneath his tail. 

Ben sighed and pulled on his boots. Walking out into the bright, cold morning was like a brand new punch to the face, the sunlight turning his hangover into a blinding drill bit of pain through his black eye and the bleating of the sheep was deafening. There was a dusting of snow on the ground, just enough to cover everything like a sprinkling of icing sugar and it quickly melted beneath each imprint of his boot. Still, Ben didn’t like to take the flock out too far when it was that cold, choosing instead to fill the mangers with hay and let the sheep graze close to home, within the fenced acres of the farm. It was the lazy way out, and his father wouldn’t have done it, but his inadequacies in that arena were nothing new and he’d long given up on trying to live up to his father’s reputation.

After feeding the flock he stood at the kitchen sink and splashed cold water onto his face, growling with agony after every handful. He was a mess; sick to his stomach, angry and exhausted. The clock above the fireplace chimed nine thirty and with a shot of whiskey to settle his stomach, and glance out at the sheep huddled safely around the mangers to feed, Ben went back to bed. 

  
The afternoon sun burnt off the snow and he stood at the fence with a cigarette watching the flock graze, counting and calculating the price he’d get for the wool in the spring, provided they all made it through the hard winter under his care. His head had finally stopped pounding and after a morning of coffee and bread and butter he was was starting to feel better, but for the bruises at his jaw and temple and what felt like a broken rib just under his armpit. 

The crunch of boots over the leaves got his attention.

“Hey Ben,” she said, wandering up to stand beside him. 

He didn’t turn to look, his stomach starting to burn with a new round of acidic humiliation. Just seeing her at the pub the night before had set him on edge, seeing her with her friends, her hair twisted up, her midnight blue dress. They’d all been laughing at him from their little throne room set up in the corner; laughing at poor Ben _Solo_ , drinking alone. He didn’t look at her now, he wouldn’t. 

“Morning,” he said, staring out toward the lake, his swollen eye socket watering in the sun. 

“I just…I wanted to check on you and make sure you’re ok.”

“I’m fine, princess, just needed to sleep it off,” he said, crushing out his cigarette under his boot. “That wasn’t my first bar fight, duck. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. Don’t you worry about me.”

She moved closer, stepping up onto the bottom rung of the wooden fence and leaning forward to watch the flock. Finally he turned to look at her. Her hair was down, shielding her face, but when the wind kicked up and blew the curtain back he saw what she was hiding.

“What happened?” He asked through gritted teeth. “Who did that?” He shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have touched her, but he reached out and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, looking closer at the purplish red bruise staining her cheekbone. “Rey, answer me. Did Poe do that?”

“No! Poe is my friend! How dare you suggest…”

Ben snorted and turned to rest his back against the fence, watching as her face tightened up in righteous anger.

“Then who?”

“…Lord Palpatine,” she said quietly, picking at the fence post and pulling little bits of the dried wood free. “He caught me coming home late and got angry...just like you said he would," she said, nudging his shoulder. "Any father would have done the same. I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t have been out so late. I’m sure they were just worried. It doesn’t matter.” She stopped and turned away from him just slightly, just enough so that he could tell she was ashamed. “I just…I just wanted to make sure _you_ were OK and…and to thank you for remembering my birthday last night. Not many people did.”

“Sure,” he said, still looking at her face, at the way the sun turned her eyes to honey, freckles dotting her nose. He shook his head clear and jumped the fence to go check on the sheep, anything to stop looking at the way she looked leaning into the wind. “No problem.”

He was walking away from her but she made no move to leave.

“They aren’t bad guys. I know they’re a little older than me but they’ve always been perfect gentlemen. And Finn and Rosie are seeing each other, you know,” she said, watching as he picked up a hayfork and stuffed one of the mangers full. “Can you imagine what his parents will say? She’s a housemaid and his family owns that factory in the city…can’t remember what they…make there but…”

“Hmm..” He said, barely looking at her, pulling a nettle out of one of the ram's wool. 

His silence didn’t matter. Rey just kept on talking, telling the story of how Rosie and Finn met, how they’d all been at the pub last week and Poe suggested they get together for Rey’s birthday. She told him about the wooden bird she found in the garden, her piano lessons with Amilyn. They were things she knew no one cared about, particularly Ben. But they were her stories and she wanted to tell them to someone and to have someone listen, someone focused only on her. She wanted to know someone that wasn’t a paid staff member, a teacher, a maid, a butler; someone all her own. 

Besides, the longer she talked, the longer she could watch him work. She could watch his dark hair shining and messy, hanging in front of his eyes, his muscles moving beneath his tight grey shirt and the thin leather braces that he’d let drop from his shoulders. There was a dark spot at the base of his spine, sweat from working in the field, and she found herself imagining what his skin would look like, his bare back, his chest, stomach. Thinking about it made her mouth go dry.

“I never see you with anyone,” she finally said. “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“Nope,” he said instantly, but she could see the smile on his lips. 

“Why not? There’s a lot of pretty girls here. I know they think you’re handsome. Don’t you get lonely?”

The tone of her voice had changed and he felt it in his gut, her words a smooth purr. She had no right to sound the way she did. She had no right to have the word _lonely_ pour from her lips like syrup. His mother used to tell him stories of the fae, and how dangerous they were; tempting little tricksters that could draw you into misery with a single smile or seductive word. He shook his head walking back over to the fence she was leaning on.

“Don’t worry about me, princess. I have plenty of company when I need it.”

“Oh,” she said, and then her face blushed a brilliant pink and she looked down at her fingers. “Oh,” she repeated, her voice much quieter as she realized what he was implying.

Why would he say such a thing, forcing her mind to think of what he meant, to think of what it must be like “keeping company” with him, his arms wrapped around her, his lips on her neck. And now he was standing so close, close enough that she could see the broken blood vessels in his swollen eye, smell the cigarettes and whiskey in the sweat that dripped down the front of his neck. Poe had tried to kiss her once and she’d ducked away, nearly laughing at the idea of it. But now she tried leaning a bit closer to Ben, closer to his full, smiling lips. She swallowed, reminding herself she wasn’t a little girl anymore. She could act like a woman around a man if she put her mind to it. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I have a boyfriend?” She asked quietly, tucking her hair back behind her ear.

“Why are you here Rey?” He asked, leaning in a bit closer, his hands on the top rung of the fence, gripping it tight enough to snap the wood in half. If she wanted to play with fire, maybe she needed to get burned to learn her lesson. “What is it you want from me, princess?”

He made the mistake of staring at her, looking right into her eyes, so bright and alive. Her cheeks had gone red in the cold and her lips were dark, lush against her creamy skin. When their eyes met her lips parted, and he could hear her suck in her breath, a few strands of her hair stuck to the wet of her mouth that she made no move to swipe away. His eyes were stuck on that open mouth, watching as she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip and shrugged.

“I…I like to see the sheep, the lambs,” she looked up at him from under her lashes, her head tipped to the side like a well practiced seductress and he wondered where she’d learned such things. “I guess I just like…to visit you.”

Nothing she said would have satisfied him, because he knew now why she came, why she showed up on his doorstep every other week, bringing him cookies she’d snuck from the kitchen or asking to help with the flock. Rey was just a girl with a crush. A girl. She was only sixteen. She leaned forward a bit more, over the top of the fence and he could see down the front of her dress, all shadow and mystery.

“Do you…do you think I’m pretty enough to have a boyfriend?” She asked, her heart pounding with anticipation. Suddenly everything the world hinged on his answer. It wasn’t until just that moment that she realized how desperately she wanted to know, how she needed to hear him say it.

Instead, he pulled back from the fence as if she’d burned him and immediately felt the sting of a splinter driving through his thumb.

“Fuck!” He said, jumping backward, holding his hand to search for the wound. 

“Oh no!’ Rey said, jumping over the fence and running to him. “A splinter? I hate them! Here, let me…”

He stood, dumbfounded as she took his giant callused hand in both of hers, pulling it in for closer examination. She was so much smaller than him, he looked down at the crown of her bowed head, her chestnut hair so sleek, shining in the sun. He should have stopped her, should have pulled away from her touch. It shouldn’t have been like a drug to have someone worry for him, care for him…but it was, and he craved it.

“Here! I found it!” She cried, squeezing the base of this thick thumb. 

With a long fingernail she was able to dig out the edge of the nearly quarter inch splinter of wood and pull it free. Dark, warm blood rushed to the wound but still she squeezed, her breath warm over his hand.

“You have to clear out all the dirt and debris…that’s what Ms. Amilyn said.”

“Rey, you don’t have to…” he attempted to pull back but she held firm.

“Oh no, wait…it’ll stop in just a second. I didn’t think it would bleed this…oh shoot…”

They stood too close together and the blood ran down onto her fingers. Then, without warning, she lifted his hand to her mouth, closing her lips around his thumb. He felt her velvet soft tongue licking over the wound, a gentle suck. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, their foreheads nearly touching. His heart pounded against his chest and he pulled away from her, nearly knocking her over with the force of his escape.

“Did I hurt you?” She asked, looking up at him with worried eyes, a furrowed brow. "I'm so sorry!"

She couldn’t have known what she was doing to him. Everything about her was shelter and innocence, a naive little girl from the top of the hill. And yet the way she looked, the way she’d smiled at him...everything _else_ about her was throwing him into confusion and he had to get away. 

“No, you—it’s fine. Thanks princess…you’d better get on home now, I need to..I have chores to do.”

Wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand, Rey could taste his blood on her lips, the salt of his skin. She’d only wanted to help; but now he stood away from her, repelled by her, his cheeks an almost angry red, his eyes fiery.

“I’m…I’m sorry Ben, I was just…”

“It’s fine. Just go home Rey,” he said, a bit gentler this time, more calm. “Thank you.”

She nodded and smiled at him in relief and turned to climb over the fence again, headed back towards the estate. Seeing him always made her feel…more. Whether it was happiness or curiosity or excitement or…something else she couldn’t quite place, something low in her belly, delicious and warm…she felt it with more depth and brighter colors after seeing him. Even if she HAD made a mistake. 

“REY!” 

Ben called out to her before she got to the base of the hill and she stopped, ready to run back to him the minute he asked. But when she turned he was frowning, serious, pointing a finger at her.

“If he ever hits you again. You tell me, do you understand?”

“I…he’s my father Ben…”

“No he’s not. You know he’s not. And even if he was, that doesn’t give him the right to hit you, do you understand me? No one has the right to hit you.”

“OK,” she said, “thanks.”


	4. Keeping Warm

Ben woke up unable to breathe. He was weighed down, too hot, something soft covering his mouth. For a moment he panicked until he felt the weight slowly move and stretch along with a little hum of contentment. The woman he’d brought home from the pub was pressed up against his chest, her ass grinding into his rapidly hardening cock as her hair attempted to strangle him, still he wasn’t quite sure of her name, but that could be the whiskey's fault. He moved his head and rolled his hips, letting his hand wander up the front of her body to find a nipple, hard and hot. It was the silkiness of their skin that he loved, the smell of their soap, bright and sweet, so different from him; like flower petals and fresh cream.

“Good morning shepherd boy,” she said.

Her voice was graveled with sleep, low and sultry, and he struggled to remember who exactly he’d pulled into his bed the night before. Whoever she was she continued to rock against him and he happily accepted it, his hand moving down between her legs

“Morning,” he whispered.

“One more round before I head home, love?” She purred, flipping over to face him, her leg thrown over his hip.

Yes, now he remembered. She’d been sitting at a table alone near closing time, drinking shots of whiskey in quick succession. Her eyes had been watery, rimmed red from crying but still she'd smiled at him from across the room. She was older than Ben by at least ten years and beautiful even through her obvious misery and clumsy drunkenness. They’d talked briefly about their lives of solitude and keeping warm on cold early spring nights and her hand had found his cock beneath the table, stroking him slowly through his trousers as they made small talk. He didn’t remember much after that, except that it had felt good to fall asleep with her head on his chest. It had felt good to wake up warm.

His head ached with dehydration and exhaustion and he was still a bit drunk, but he kept on moving in rhythm with the woman whose name he couldn’t remember, hoping it would all feel better if he just got off. She flipped him onto his back and rode him with slow rolling hips, her hands on his chest, her head thrown back. It meant nothing to either of them; her eyes were closed, they were alone in their own worlds. It was just sex and for a little while it kept the loneliness at bay. At least he hoped it would.

It was what he always hoped for.

The flock was sheared in the Spring and like everything else, Ben took it on alone. After doing it that way for nearly sixteen years, he’d gotten into an easy rhythm with the sheep and was able to take care of the whole flock within a week although he was left sore and exhausted by the end, his hands bruised and calloused from the shears. Charles had offered on dozens of occasions to help him when the time came, but Ben knew that with shearing help came lectures…inquiries about his future, curiosity about his personal life, and suspicion that he would never live up to his father’s reputation. Lending a hand meant asking him over to dinner so they could tell him what he was doing wrong with his life. It meant that Maz would send a basket of biscuits and tell him to get more sleep. With help came the kind of emotional debt that he could never repay, not even to the man who’d taught him how to ride a bicycle.

Locking three of the more wily ewes into the tiny shearing yard, Ben stripped out of his shirt and crouched in the bright sun to work, carefully laying the first animal on her right side, her neck between his legs, calming her with his low, soothing voice.

“It’s ok girl, just a bit a of trim up here…you’ll be looking brand new in no time,” he cooed, setting the blade against her skin and working quickly to remove the wool covering her belly.

Rey ambled up to the fence without him noticing and she liked it that way. He was different when he didn’t know he was being watched, happier, more comfortable in his skin. Besides, if he knew she was there he’d probably put his shirt back on, so she took a few silent moments to enjoy the view. Even though it was only early spring, there was still a golden tan on his shoulders and across his chest, his skin dotted with moles and freckles like a reverse night sky. His wool trousers hung loose on his hips, leather braces dangling from his waist as he carried a smaller ewe across the yard on his shoulders.

“Quit your yelling. You’ll be happier once it’s gone,” he said, setting the sheep down.

“Do they always fight you?” She finally asked, leaning against the fence. 

He looked up, squinting into the sun to catch her eye. She’d cut her hair the year before and now it framed her face in bouncy waves when she didn’t keep it tied back in a scarf. It gave her an air of sophistication…she seemed older. It had been a few weeks since he’d seen her as the winter had been rough, the pastures muddy and not ideal for walking. On the short, dark days of February he would sit at his kitchen table and watch out the window, hoping to see her coming down the hill, wanting to bring her in from the cold. There had been a few times she’d been at the pub with her friends or in the market in town With Amilyn, but somehow seeing her then wasn’t the same as when she made the choice to come down to the farm. It wasn’t the same as when it was just for him. Her smiles and words were different.

“A couple do…most of them have given up hope,” he answered with a laugh, wrestling the bleating sheep into position and mimicking the animal’s cries right back in its face. 

She liked watching the muscles in his arms bunch and stretch, the way his brow furrowed with concentration as he set to work. Even when she knew the answers to his questions she listened with unwavering attention, happy to hear him explain his expertise. 

“But if I keep it fast and the cuts are clean, keep the shears sharp, they’re done in no time and before the day’s over they’ve forgotten all about it and feel fresh as a daisy. Just another hair cut. They need that coat in the winter for keeping warm but it’s too much now. Shearing it off is refreshing.”

The gate was unlocked and she stepped inside, tucking the hem of her skirt into her belt as she picked her way over the muddy ground. Two small rams were waiting to be shorn, pacing nervously in the corner and she went to keep them company. They sniffed her skirt and she scratched the thick patch of wool on top of their heads.

“It’s OK Terrence,” she said to the smaller one with a dark brown coat. “It’ll be over in just a minute baby boy.”

Ben laughed, shaking his head as he finished the last bits of the ewe he was working on before letting her run free. Ever since she was a child, Rey had been taking it upon herself to name the flock. Not every one of them, but if they had some sort of distinguishing mark or distinctive voice or eye color she would assign them a name, sometimes imagine them having a favorite color or flower, a whole story about their life that she expanded on with every visit. Even after he told her it was silly, warning her that she shouldn’t get attached as you could lose them at any time; to wolves, to illness, to accidents…she would just wave him off, unbothered by his pessimism and go back to playing pretend. It was her light that had always drawn him in. Even after all she’d been through, the darkness she was surrounded with, she hadn’t turned to stone. The glow within her hadn’t dimmed.

Terrence, growing frustrated in his captivity bucked forward, knocking her against the fence.

“Careful princess, what’s daddy going to say when he sees you’ve gotten your dress dirty?” He teased, walking over to pull the ram away. 

He stood close enough to her that she could hear his breathing, see the dark hairs on his arms, the glistening sweat on his chest. She swallowed and stepped backward, pulling a tiny piece of floating wool out of the air.

“He’s not my _daddy_ ,” she said, her voice shaking as she tried to take a joking tone. “And believe me, he wouldn’t notice if I came home not wearing a dress at all.”

“Oh I doubt that,” he said, smiling as his eyes ran over her body, taking her in from head to toe.

It was a look he’d never given her before, or at least that she’d ever noticed; like a hungry wolf with dripping fangs. A shiver ran through her blood, prickling her scalp and she stepped away from his heated gaze. When he turned his head she saw there was a dark purple bruise on the side of his neck, right along the thick tendon that connected to his shoulder and she found herself staring at it, knowing quite well that it wasn’t from a fight. 

“Do you want to try?” He asked, wrangling the brown ram to the ground on its side. 

The muscles in his back shone with sweat and a shock of dark hair hung in front of his eye that she wanted so badly to touch, to curl around her finger, tuck behind his ear. She was mesmerized. So much so that she didn’t move when he held his hand out to her, covered in a worn brown leather work glove.

“Oh I don’t think I could even...” 

The sheep bleated in frustration and Ben smiled at her with encouragement holding up the long iron shears in his other hand.

“You don’t have to do it on your own, but you can help me. We'll do it together. Come on and learn a trade, _La Pastorella_ , I’ll hold him down.”

He waved his hand to beckon her closer and she stepped over the mud and stones and grass to take her place behind the ram. It squirmed and bleated and Ben threw one thick leg over the body, holding it in place. With a heavy hand on her shoulder he moved her closer to the sheep and then he was right behind her. Rey could feel the heat from his chest on her back as he helped to guide the long, heavy shears into her hand. His arms wrapped around her and through the stiff spring breeze she felt the warmth of his breath on her neck. She slipped her fingers into the handle of the shears and he held it with her, bringing it to the wriggling belly of the ram.

“Don't worry, we won’t hurt him. Just lay the blade against his stomach and we’ll do three quick snips,” he said, his voice quiet and melodic, as if they were sharing a delicious secret. 

Rey nodded and went along with his guiding hand, slicing through the oily brown coat with a long, schniiick. Once, twice, three times, then she saw a patch of wool flap back, loose, the velvety shorn belly of the ram squirming in front of her. 

“There you go! Good girl!” He murmured in her ear, guiding her hand down the animal’s stomach.

He leaned over further, his chest pressed to her back, and as he closed his leg tighter around the ram she heard a little grunt of effort from deep in his throat that made her mouth go dry. An overwhelming urge to lean into his arms distracted her from her work and after another three snips she let go of the shears.

“That’s enough…that’s good. I don’t…I’m afraid I’m going to hurt him!” She said, laughing. 

When she turned to step out of Ben’s way the ram bucked and kicked in order to run off to the other side of the paddock and she stumbled against his chest. His arm wrapped tight around her waist to keep her from falling, her hands trapped against his bare skin. It was warm and she could feel his heart beating beneath her palm. 

“Easy there, love,” he said, smiling down at her as his tongue flicked out over his bottom lip.

When she looked up he nearly stumbled himself, almost fell backwards at the sight of her eyes lit up in the sun, her pink cheeked face so close, so happy and smiling. It would take nothing to just take her right there…to brush his lips over hers, tease her mouth open with the tip of his tongue and make her moan. He would easily be able to lift her, wrap her legs around his hips and carry her to his bed. He let his arm tighten around her waist, his fingers digging in to the skin just below her ribs and he heard her suck a breath in between her teeth. Her fingers twitched against his chest and he swallowed, watching her parted lips, hardly a word’s breadth between them.

“I…I’m sorry,” she said, looking away, “That was…clumsy,” and before he could stop her, she’d wriggled free, hopping away towards the gate. 

“Rey,” he said, straightening up. “Rey wait…”

“I should probably head home…” she said, chewing at her bottom lip.

“Rey, I didn’t mean to…”

“Its fine,” she said walking backwards up the path. "I just...I'll see you soon. Bye!"

The wind kicked up as afternoon clouds rolled in from the lake and as he watched her disappear into the trees, Ben found that he was cold once again.


	5. Her Dark Prince

The creek ran wide and deep on the west side of the estate, far out of sight from the main house, and in the summer Rey would take a book and blanket to the banks of the water and sit for hours. Alone beneath the trees she dove head first into the flowery romances that Amilyn recommended (although not approved by Lord Palpatine); paperback novels from a shop in the city with colorful covers and enticing titles. She leant against one of the boulders nestled in the cluster of willow trees and dug in to the story of an evil emperor and the beautiful orphan girl who changed his heart. It was imaginative and adventurous, and page 93 made her insides clench with arousal as she read of the emporer taking the orphan girl’s virginity, driving into her while kissing her neck, their bodies completely naked and slick with sweat, her fingernails digging into his back. She squeezed her thighs together and closed her eyes, imagining such a thing happening to her, what it would feel like to be trapped beneath a dark, mysterious prince, strong and relentless in his lust for her, his hands on...

“Hey princess,” Ben called from a few dozen yards away.

Rey nearly dropped her book and quickly sat up straight, tucking the offending object away, deep under her blanket.Huck the dog ran over and nosed her hand, looking for attention and possibly a snack and she gave him a few scratches behind the ears in greeting.

“Hello. What…why are you here?” She asked.

By way of an answer he raised his fishing pole and basket.

“I hear the Bream are biting,” he said, setting down his equipment and shuffling through his basket for bait. “What are you doing here?”

“I come out here to read on warm afternoons. It’s a nice little…escape,” she said, leaning back on her open palms. “Besides, Lord Palpatine has a friend visiting from another county and he gives me the creeps.”

She’d taken her shoes off and he smiled as she wiggled her toes in the grass, her skirt bunched up just a hint above her knees. He hadn’t seen her since the shearing incident, since she’d run off out of his arms with a flushed face and a forced smile. It had been nearly a month in fact, since she’d spoken to him at all and he knew it could only be because he’d frightened her. Since that fateful day he’d found himself haunted by her every night, every time he climbed into his bed alone, staring out the window at the house up on the hill, lit up from within as if it were filled with gold. He thought of how she’d felt in his arms even for a moment, her smile, the smell of her hair. But as his heart got carried away he’d also reminded himself that she was just a girl…a girl he was only supposed to be watching over from afar. She would have no interest in a thirty year old man, and a shepherd at that. He was nothing more than a man with an old cottage and three dozen sheep. She was someone who deserved more.

For a while he fished in silence and Huck curled up on Rey’s blanket while she paged through her book. It was humid, the air fragrant with the smell of the creek and the wild flowers growing along its banks and secretly he was grateful that the fish didn’t bite. It meant he could watch her unnoticed, the way her mouth moved just a bit as she read, her eyes widening and narrowing as she followed the action of the words. While she sunk into her story her feet tensed up, toes flexing and stretching, her legs fidgety and long. There was a bit of pink on her knees to match the sunburn across her cheeks and nose and he couldn’t help but think of what her whole body would look like kissed by the sun. A fish tugged at his bait and he fought with it for a moment but let the bream go, finally pulling his empty hook from the water completely and leaning his pole against a tree.

“Whatcha reading?” He asked, his hands deep in his pockets, head tipped to the side as he stood over her.

Rey squinted up into the sun and laughed nervously. There was something in his expression, a crooked smile and a teasing laugh, that made her worry he could hear her thoughts, or that he’d somehow known she was just reading about her emperor and scavenger girl making love on a broken throne. She slammed the book shut and tucked it under her hip.

“Just a bit of pleasure reading. And none of your business, I might add,” said, adopting a haughty tone. Then, pointing her nose in the air she declared, “It’s nothing you’d be interested in anyway.”

“Oh really, you think I can’t read?” He asked, flopping down beside her, his body longer than the blanket as he stretched out on his side, propping his head up with his hand. His shirt was halfway unbuttoned and she could see his bare chest as the fabric gaped open, the little dusting of dark hair.

“No…oh Ben I didn’t mean…” she was horrified that he would think that. She was a terrible flirt.

But he was laughing, and then he was reaching over and for a brief moment he was crouching over her, covering her body as he reached for the book, looking down at her, his unruly hair brushing over her throat. She stiffened and lay back on her elbows, but he quickly pulled away, turning the book over in his hands.

“ _Her Dark Prince_ ,” he read off the cover. And then, with dramatic intonation he added the description written below the title; “In a time of tumult and rebellion, can Emperor Kylo find love in the arms of a helpless scavenger or will their fiery desire consume them both? My goodness, Rey Palpatine…is this a dirty book?”

She was mortified, her cheeks burning as he flipped through the pages, reading some of the tamer passages out loud until she couldn’t take it anymore, lunging forward to pull it from his hands. But Ben only laughed, holding the book high out of her reach at the end of his long arm. It was ridiculous and childish and both of them were giggling as she begged him to return it and then he bent his arm down, hiding the book behind his back. Without thinking she reached for it, her body pressed to his, their limbs tangled as they both caught their breath.

“Ben please...” she whimpered, attempting to pry the paperback from his fingers.

It was just like before, just like the day in the shearing yard. She was so close he could feel her breath, smell her soap. And when she begged him, when she whined his name from her plump little lips…

He dropped the book and wrapped a hand around the back of her slim neck, pulling her lips to his, kissing her with every bit of power and want that he’d buried down deep for years as he watched her bloom into the gorgeous woman sitting before him. She gasped in surprise and he swept his tongue over the wet of her open mouth before sucking her bottom lip between his.

“Rey,” he whispered against her, pulling her down so that she was stretched out beside him, her tiny body curled against his clinging to his shirt as if she’d fly away were she to let go.

His kiss was gentle but insistent, pushing her to open further, to give more, all but begging her to kiss back and she gladly complied, throwing her arms around his neck and letting her tongue twist with his as best she knew how. Behind her ribs she felt her heart pumping hot, energized blood, a frisson of heated need running to every nerve making her skin feel as if it were vibrating. His other arm slipped around her waist and he fell back, pulling her to lay on top of him, her thighs thrown awkwardly across his hips. Between her legs she felt her core throbbing with arousal, her insides clenching as he groaned into her mouth, his hand massaging her neck before sliding up into her hair. Without even thinking she rocked against him, her hips rolling in some ancient instinct, her breasts crushed into his chest, skirt rucked up around her hips as she straddled him. It was obscene and feral, and something deep in her belly told her to keep moving, to keep rocking and kissing and touching him, that there was some delicious reward at the end. Something long and hot and hard pressed upward through his trousers. She froze and pulled back to catch her breath, trying not to move as she looked down at his kiss swollen lips, his dark eyes with pupils blown wide.

“Oh…I…” she stuttered, unsure of what she even wanted to say.

Blinded by lust, Ben held her hips to keep her warm core pressed against the length of his erection, but in the same moment he could see the apprehension in her eyes, the slight furrow to her brow. She smiled and bent to kiss him again but he pushed her back and sat up.

“Rey, wait…”

She was still curled in his lap, her knees bent back, her arms around his neck as she tried to find his mouth again, chasing his kiss just as he was willing himself to stop. He wanted her so badly but she was only nineteen and he was sure that she hadn’t been with anyone else. Her kiss was eager but unpracticed and the feeling of his cock pressing upward had shocked her into silence. She wasn’t ready. It wasn’t right. He took a deep breath and instead of kissing her he stroked her hair, tucking it back behind her ear and moving his body so that she wasn’t nestled right against him. Maybe just holding her would be enough.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you want…I thought you wanted…me,” she said, her voice sad, a bit embarrassed, and he kicked himself again.

“Rey, listen to me,” he moved to lean against the boulder, pulling her into his arms. She tried to tuck her head down, to hide, curled into his chest, but he wouldn’t let her, holding her face in his hands to look her in the eye. “Rey, I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long. I just…I don’t want to push. It’s a big deal and…you’re just a girl…”

At that she pulled free of his grip, her eyes fiery as she set her jaw, tight and determined.

“I’m not a _girl_. I’m a grown woman. I can decide what I want. I can do what I want…”

How dare he humiliate her, talk down to her as if she didn’t know her own feelings, her own body? She was no fool. Every molecule inside her screamed for his touch, his mouth, his cock. All she wanted was to know what it was like, to know what it felt like to have him moving inside her, to feel skin on skin. She shifted away from his arms and reached for the button of his trousers, ignoring the way her hands shook as she moved to straddle his thighs again.

“Rey stop…” he said, trying to push her hands away. Just having her that close, feeling her forearm brush over his length through the fabric of his trousers was putting him in agony. “Rey…”

“I’m old enough to make my own decisions. If I want to…if I want…”

“You think you know, but you don’t…look at me…Rey please…”

He held her still as he plead with her and as if in defiance she rolled her hips again, narrowing her eyes in a challenge that he fought to ignore. The first button of his fly came free and she moved to the hooks and eyes below it as she closed her eyes and whispered, almost to herself…

“I can do what I want…I know what I want…”

He was angry. He was dizzy with want. Whatever they did, however far they went, it would change her forever and he didn’t want it to be like this. Any other man wouldn’t let her push him like that, tease him like that. Any other man wouldn’t let her play this game and she would get hurt. Her hands stopped moving and he held her wrists tightly in place, locking in and holding her gaze. She wanted him. She did…but behind her want he could see questions, confusion, fear in her expression. She was afraid to take the leap and just as afraid of being rejected. She wasn’t ready.

“What? You want what?” He said, a bit more anger in his voice than he intended, the words riding a sharp edge. But it had to be her choice. She had to know what she was running into headlong. “You need to say it, Rey. You’re not ready if you can’t say it.”

“I want…you, Ben…I want…” her voice trailed off, quiet and unsure. “Don’t you want me?”

She twisted her arm in his grip and he felt his throat tighten as he was forced to watch her discomfort, watching her face go from warm and glowing with lust to a mask of pale, tense shock. He tugged at her forearm and she fell forward against his chest. He leaned in close, his lips near her ear as his nose brushed her temple.

“Rey, I want you. I want to touch you, be with you. I want you so badly but not like this…not here.” He brushed a lock of hair from her face, hoping to soothe the hurt and anger he saw in her eyes. “You have no idea how badly I want you princess…but we have plenty of time.”

She shook her head in frustration and climbed off of his lap. There was no way she was going to stay there and allow him to see how humiliated she was, how her eyes were stinging with tears that she kept blinking away. Deep down she knew he was being kind to her but he’d never made her feel more like a child playing a silly game.

He walked away from her to gather up his fishing supplies while she straightened her dress and made a show of folding the blanket for the walk back to the estate. Nothing made sense. He’d kissed her with such tenderness, his hands so soft on her body, a smile on his lips…but something she’d done had changed it, changed how he looked at her. She wasn't enough for him. Tucking her book under her arm she crossed over to him, cutting off his path before he could leave completely, unwilling to let him just disappear like that.When she touched his arm he froze, not turning to look at her.

“You should know I'm not afraid, Ben. I...I think about you all the time. I think about you and I, together. And I've known you so along, all my life. I…I think I lo-”

“Don’t,” he said, whirling on her but keeping his emotions in check. “Don’t say it.”

He couldn’t bear to hear her say it, to utter words she couldn’t really understand. Instead he just bent to kiss the crown of her head, running one hand down the length of her cheek.

“I don't regret kissing you Rey,” he said, unable to torture her any longer. “And I want...all of you, but I just…I just want you to wait. I want you to wait until you know for sure what it is you’re asking for and then I’ll be here. Look, I have to go check on the troops. I’ll see you around, princess.”

He smiled, hoping to reassure her, but her expression was clouded, eyes wet with tears and he had to walk away quickly so she wouldn’t see that his were the same.


End file.
